So there I was, 12 years old, and already responsible for the death of a loved one. I imagined Mak Ucu trying desperately to call out to me and instead of coming to her rescue I went to sleep. My family would see me as a murderer if they found out and I would rot forever and after in hell.
It took me years to gain enough courage to tell my mom. She told me it wasn’t my fault, and there was no way I could have known. The heavy burden was lifted off my shoulders.
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